


I Kept My Promise (Show Me the Promiseland)

by umisabaku



Series: Designation: Miracle [9]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 14:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8537254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umisabaku/pseuds/umisabaku
Summary: Six times the Miracle guardians met the Miracle significant others. (And one time it still hasn't happened.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write the Miracle guardians' thoughts on the Miracle boyfriends for awhile now, and a series of prompt-requests over on tumblr finally made me just sit down and write it =D Knowledge of Designation: Miracle as a whole is probably necessary, but if you haven't read "A Name That Feels Like Mine" I recommend reading that one before this one to provide the context for the guardians.
> 
> Also, because each of the guardians met the Miracles at a different point, this story sort of jumps around chronologically by pairing. 
> 
> Title taken from "Promiseland" by Mika.

Kagami is sure that somewhere, logically, he must have _known_ Kuroko had guardians, but it still comes as a surprise when Kuroko says, “My guardians want to meet you.”

His exact response was to blurt out, “You have guardians?” to which Kuroko had looked at him with a very disapproving and slightly judging expression.

“Of course I have guardians. Did Kagami-kun think the JSDF had left me to live on my own?”

Well, _kinda._

He’d been overjoyed when Kuroko had agreed to move in with him, but it had also grieved him somewhat because it confirmed what he’d feared all along: no one was taking care of Kuroko.

But, faced with Kuroko’s blue-eyed judgy affront, Kagami can’t just say, “I didn’t think anyone loved you” so he hedges with, “No one was at the Diet for you.”

Kuroko just looks at him with a vaguely quizzical expression. “My guardian was there. He was one of the JSDF soldiers who were interviewed.”

“He was?”

“Fujimaki Takaya.”

Kagami scratches the back of his head and tries to remember the name but he already knows it’s a pointless endeavor. He’s never been good at remembering names under the best of circumstances (unless they were strong basketball players) and that day had been filled with too many names, too many faces, and too many tense emotions for Kagami to remember anyone. The only soldier he remembered from that day was Kasamatsu’s dad.

“I don’t remember him,” Kagami confesses. He eyes his boyfriend, trying to figure out the emotions behind his blank face. “And he’s really OK with you moving in with your boyfriend at sixteen?”

He’s trying not to sound too judgmental there—after all, Kagami’s dad was OK with him moving in with his boyfriend at sixteen. But Kagami was willing to admit that his dad had a fairly lax approach to parenting that was not an accurate model for how most parents behaved.

“He has no problems with it,” Kuroko says passively. “But he did say he wanted to meet Kagami-kun before it happened.”

It’s really only then that Kagami starts to feel nervous.

*

Kuroko did so much on his own—took so much upon himself; and during all the crises that happened, Kuroko and the other Miracles had gathered together and they all wanted to handle it on their own, and honestly, it hadn’t really occurred to Kagami that _any_ of them had guardians who cared about them.

And he can’t help it, but he is feeling a lot of resentment towards a guy who is willing to let Kuroko move in with his boyfriend. (Despite the fact that Kagami knows he would have been very bitter if Kuroko’s guardian _had_ refused. But still. He can feel contradictory things).

Part of his anger is a result of those feelings. He wants to take care of Kuroko, be there for Kuroko; he wants to be in Kuroko’s life always.

So he can’t help but feel a lot of anger towards _anyone_ who could easily let Kuroko go.

*

The house is larger than Kagami was expecting, considering how critical Kuroko had been of Kagami’s own apartment. And the first thing Kagami notices are the books. There’s a bookshelf in practically every room and Kagami has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that this many books could exist somewhere outside of a library.

When Kagami is introduced to the husband and wife who are looking after Kuroko, Kagami is immediately struck by how old they are. They look like they could be someone’s kindly grandparents, and Kagami wasn’t expecting that.

“You must be Kagami-kun,” the man says, stepping forward to shake Kagami’s hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

The grip is very firm—much stronger than Kagami would have expected from an old man—and even though he’s smiling and looks like someone’s kindly grandfather, he has a powerful aura about him; something akin to when Kagami can sense strong basketball players is roaring inside him that this is not a man to underestimate—this man is terrifying. And that’s when Kagami realizes that he _does_ remember this guy from the Special Diet.

He’d been scary then, too.

*

Kagami remembers him because his interview had been different. With all the other soldiers, Miracles, and doctors who were interrogated, the woman (who was probably not a lawyer, but Kagami’s still a little unclear on that) had ferociously attacked every possible weakness. She had been completely dogged in her pursuit, and had fully railroaded some of the people she had interviewed.

But _this_ man had her subdued; and that’s why Kagami paid attention. She’d been flustered; and at times unsure, and consequently his interrogation had been very short. It had occurred to Kagami then that the woman who had so relentlessly interrogated Murasakibara and Aomine was actually intimidated by _this_ man.

Kagami still remembers what he said that day. The man had looked very disapproving and said with much strength behind his words, “Here in Japan, we believe that our children should be protected. This entire situation is an affront to the ideals we hold in this country.”

He had been excused quickly after, and it had taken the not-lawyer some time to regroup.

Kagami had been very impressed.

But then, he figured that it only made sense for generals to be kind of badass.

*

“You didn’t tell me he was a general,” Kagami hisses at Kuroko, when the two adults turned their backs to go prepare their meal in the kitchen.

“Kagami-kun said he didn’t remember,” Kuroko says, puzzled.

“I would have remembered _general,”_ Kagami says.

“Next time I will remember that distinction,” Kuroko says politely, and Kagami just scowls at him because the general is turning back and talking, and it seems like he should pay attention.

*

The general and his wife are both kind and polite, but Kagami spends the entire time on edge anyway. Logically, he would feel this way meeting Kuroko’s parents _regardless_. He’s basically asking their permission to marry Kuroko. The meeting was going to be awkward no matter what.

But it’s made even more awkward by the fact that Kagami knows he’s _not_ asking for permission. He is going to marry Kuroko no matter what these people say. And if they refuse to let Kuroko move in with him, then he’s going to kidnap Kuroko and live with him _anyway,_ as long as that’s something Kuroko wants.

The general’s wife leaves to prepare something in the kitchen, and Kuroko follows to help her.

Leaving Kagami alone with General Fujimaki.

*

“So, Kagami-kun,” the general says casually. “Why do you want to move in with Tetsuya-kun?”

“I want to take care of him,” Kagami says automatically.

“We take care of him,” Fujimaki replies, his voice calm.

“I can take care of him _better,_ ” Kagami says. Then he flushes, realizing how rude that was, and adds a belated, “Sir.”

“Hmm,” the general says. His eyes are fixed on Kagami, and there’s a lot of shrewd intelligence there. “I have a feeling that you don’t approve of me.”

Kagami is sure he must be bright red now, because he hadn’t meant to be so obvious. “Don’t you love Kuroko?”

It’s something he wishes he could take back immediately after he says it. It sounds too childish, for one thing, but it’s also unfair. The man isn’t Kuroko’s father; he’s not obligated to love him.

“Of course I do,” the general says, and he says it with such firmness that there’s no chance he was just giving automatic platitudes. “Tetsuya-kun is very dear to me. I could not love him more if he was my own blood.”

“But then why—” Kagami breaks off before he sounds too much like an asshole.

“Why am I OK with Tetsuya-kun moving in with you?” Fujimaki finishes.

Kagami has the decency to feel slightly ashamed, but he nods.

Fujimaki just studies Kagami thoughtfully, and Kagami gets the sense that the general is learning more about Kagami than Kagami’s getting out of this encounter.

“Because I made a promise to Tetsuya-kun,” Fujimaki says finally. “When I invited him to come live with me, I promised him that it would only be until he found where he wanted to be. I would have liked it if he had wanted to remain here, but I will not begrudge him if he has decided that place is with you.”

Kagami flushes again, and now he feels _guilty,_ which isn’t something he thought he would feel during this encounter.

“You seem like a good kid, Kagami-kun,” Fujimaki says pleasantly. “I am glad you and Tetsuya-kun found each other. Also, you’re both having dinner here every Sunday night, so it’s not like we’re never going to see Tetsuya-kun again, right?”

“Right,” Kagami says automatically, and then only belatedly realizes what he’d been agreeing to, but he scowls, figuring it’s not like he could have told him _no, I will not have dinner with you._

Kagami would have fought this man if it was needed. He would have done that for Kuroko.

But he’s admittedly a little glad that won’t be necessary.

*

“Did Fujimaki-san like Kagami-kun?”

Fujimaki Takaya smiles down fondly at the boy he had been raising. “I did, very much.”

Kagami is currently outside talking to his wife, Touko, who is piling his arms full of leftovers and various baked goods, because she was convinced such a tall boy must be starving all the time. (Kuroko led them to believe this was an accurate assessment).

Takaya thinks in another life, Kagami Taiga would have made an excellent soldier. He has the necessary boldness, strength, and desire to protect that made the very best of heroes. But Takaya thinks it’s just as well the boy has a passion for basketball and taking care of Kuroko. Given time, he thinks they will get along quite nicely.

“So, Tetsuya-kun. Are you sure you belong with him?” He very carefully does not say, “Are you sure you belong _to_ him?” even though that had once been Kuroko’s understanding of the word.

“I do,” Kuroko says softly. “Although I cannot explain it, I believe Kagami-kun is the reason I ran away from Teiko. I believe that I must have escaped in order to meet him.”

Heavy stuff. Takaya knows that most people might scoff at the idea that two teenagers could find love at that age, and love forever, but he is not one of those people. Kuroko Tetsuya is not an ordinary boy, and Takaya suspects Kagami is not either.

“You will always have a home here,” he says instead.

“I know, Fujimaki-san. Thank you.”

*

It’s not exactly that Kasamatsu _wanted_ his father to object to the change in his relationship status with Kise, but after awhile it really started to bother him that his father wasn’t, in fact, objecting to the change in his relationship status with Kise.

“Doesn’t it bother you at _all_ that we share a bedroom?” Kasamatsu blurts out one day.

To his credit, Youji didn’t try to pretend he didn’t know what his son was talking about. “Hmm. Well, no, Yukio, should it?”

“ _He’s sixteen,_ ” Kasamatsu snarls. “On principle, you should object to your sixteen year old son shacking up with his older boyfriend. Would you be this relaxed if Mizuki or Ren wanted to live with their lovers?”

“Well, that would depend entirely on who their lovers were,” Youji says cheerfully. “ _You’re_ not planning on doing anything indecent, are you?”

“Of course not!” Kasamatsu yells, although he bites the inside of his cheeks because _sometimes_ Kise looks at him, and kisses him, and runs his fingers along Kasamatsu’s skin, and he is really, really, _really,_ tempted to do indecent things. And frankly, it’s a little exhausting to be the only one in the house who has a moral code. He is really looking forward to moving out for college when the time comes.

“Come on, Yukio. You don’t really want me to be the kind of father who kicks his son out of the house because he likes guys, do you?”

“No, of course not,” Kasamatsu says, feeling tired all of the sudden. “But sometimes I wish you didn’t always count on _me_ to do the right thing.” He walks away at that point, and doesn’t see his father flinch.

*

“Why is Senpai mad at you?” Kise asks. They’re playing video games on the couch, and Youji is losing. He always loses when he plays against Kise, though. He loses a fair amount against Mizuki too, which is just humiliating, really.

“Hrm,” Youji says. His car spins and crashes into a wall, and he sighs and puts down his controller. “I often depend on Yukio to do the right thing so that I don’t have to. That’s why he’s mad.”

“What does that mean?” Kise says, frowning as he puts his own controller down.            

“It means, occasionally, I’m a really shitty father.”

“What are you talking about?” Kise exclaims. “You’re a great dad! Like, seriously, the best one ever!”

Youji smiles, but he knows it’s a lopsided expression. He says, “It means a lot to me that you think so, Ryouta.” And he very carefully makes sure he doesn’t start crying.

“Why would you think otherwise? Senpai loves you. So do the brats.”

“Yeah, I know.” His sons do love him. And Mizuki and Ren probably aren’t old enough to remember his failings, or maybe they never felt them as keenly, because they always had Yukio. But the fact was, Youji always depended on Yukio to pick up his slack when it came to parenting, and he knew how unfair that was to his eldest child.

“Maybe you shouldn’t sleep in the same room,” he says grudgingly.

“ _That’s_ not going to happen,” Kise says, his entire manner shifting to that dangerous killer he had been designed and trained to be. “I’m not going to let _anyone_ take Senpai away from me, not even _you_ , Youji-san.”

“Careful, kid, your scary is showing.”

Kise scowls, but does his best to tone down his intensity. Youji watches as Kise carefully puts his mask back on.  “I meant, if he wants to stay,” Kise amends. “I know he’s going to college soon. There’s nothing wrong with having this time _now_ is there?”

That had been his way of thinking too, and that was the problem.

The problem was, from practically Day One he’d seen too much of himself in Kise. And Yukio may have been the child who physically resembled him the most, but in every other way he was Hinami through and through. Watching Kise chase after Yukio had been a fond but painful reminder of his own years of unrequited love, and he knows it’s _wrong,_ but he’d been rooting for Kise because of that similarity.

It’s wrong because he _knows_ Kise is not his younger self, anymore than Yukio is Hinami. They are not the same, no matter how many resemblances are there.

But sometimes fear isn’t rational. He thinks, _I didn’t have enough time._ From the moment she returned his affections to the day she died, it wasn’t nearly enough time to love her.

So that’s what he wants for these two. Time.

“You know, Ryouta. It’s dangerous to put all your love on one person.”

Losing Hinami had nearly destroyed him. As much as he hates to admit it, the only reason he’s alive today is because of two people.

One of those people is Yukio.

He couldn’t stand losing Yukio, the very thought keeps him up at night—but it would destroy Kise. And maybe he shouldn’t be thinking about these kinds of things, maybe this isn’t what a normal parent should worry about when two kids he loves very much start dating one another. But sometimes, he can’t help but think that if anything happened to Yukio it would be like setting off a bomb in Kise.

“I know,” Kise says shortly, surprising Youji with how uncharacteristically serious he sounds. “I do know that, Youji-san. And I’m not. I care about you, and the brats, and the other Miracles and my Kaijo team. But. I didn’t think I could have this, you know? Happiness. So I want to keep this, no matter what.”

“Yeah,” Youji agrees. He picks up the controller again. “Maybe stop trying to seduce him, though? I think its starting to wear on his morals.”

“Man, I _hope_ so,” Kise whines, picking up his own controller and resuming the game. “Because his morals are a serious cockblock. Where’d he even get those, anyway? Not from you.”

“No. Definitely not from me,” Youji agrees.

*

Takao had met Dr. Kishitani long before he’d ever met Midorima. He met Kishitani first as his mom’s boss, and then as the father of his younger sister’s best friend. Then as the father of _his_ best friend. And he can’t help but feel it’s like meeting him anew all over again when he meets Kishitani as the father of his boyfriend.

Not that Kishitani _knows_ that. Midorima and Takao were very public with their relationship at Shutoku (to the delight of many of their female classmates who had been shipping them all year) but they’d both decided there was no point in letting their parents know just yet.

Takao just hadn’t wanted his mom to know because if Nobuko found out she would _never_ let him live it down. She would be very impossible to deal with, if she knew Takao was dating the boy he once swore never to talk to again.

He’s not sure why Midorima doesn’t want Kishitani to know.

*

Truthfully, it’s a little strange for him to meet Kishitani after he starts dating Midorima because he’s never actually met a boyfriend’s parents before. The first time he goes over to the Kishitanis post-making out with Midorima he feels like he should be doing something different, despite the fact that he’d been over to their house dozens of times before.

“It’s good of you to come over so often to study, Takao-kun,” Kishitani says seriously. “It’s important for you boys to keep up your grades.”

“Right, study, you know me, I care a whole heck of a lot about school. Come on, Shin-chan, it’s time to hit the books, ‘cuz I sure love school and books and math, gosh, math is great.”

Takao is pretty sure he knows how to be smoother than this, but for the life of him, he can’t remember how.

*

“What was that?” Midorima says crossly once they’re upstairs.

“I don’t know!” Takao wails. “He’s your dad and ten minutes ago I was fantasizing about licking your nipples. It’s _weird,_ OK?”

He can’t even properly enjoy all the different shades of red Midorima turns as he sputters, “Be quiet, fool!” Takao just flops on Midorima’s bed and covers his face with his hands.

“Do you think he knows? He was asking like he knows.”

“He asked about our studying.”

“Yeah, but it was the _way_ he said it. Like he knew we weren’t actually going to be studying.”

“But…we are going to be studying.”

Takao huffs and sits up so he can glare at his boyfriend. “You really know how to kill the mood, don’t you?”

Midorima pushes up his glasses. “You really need to study, Takao. Coach said you can’t play in the next game if you fail your history test.”

Takao flops down on the bed again and questions his taste in men.

*

“Hey, why aren’t you a Kishitani?” He’s mostly just distracting himself at this point. He really hates studying.

“What do you mean?” Midorima asks stiffly.

“I mean, was it just because you wanted to stick with the color theme? Because you can’t tell me he didn’t offer to adopt you. And Kishitani Shintarou has a nice ring to it.”

“He didn’t,” Midorima says shortly. “That’s not—I wouldn’t presume.”

 _“Presume?_ ” Takao exclaims, dropping his pencil. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s not my father. He is my guardian. And I wouldn’t—”

“That’s bullshit,” Takao interrupts. “Even you can’t believe that. His daughter calls you ‘Onii-sama,' he worries about you—the way he acted during that thing with 7284—he clearly loves you like a son.”

“Kishitani-sensei is very kind,” Midorima says stiffly.

Takao opens his mouth and then shuts it, trying to think things through before blurting out further exclamations of Midorima’s stupidity. _Before,_ he might have thought Midorima didn’t _want_ a familial connection. The Takao then who had only his misguided assumptions about the Miracles would have thought Midorima just didn’t want humans in his life.

The Takao then had been very stupid.

“Shin-chan…do you really believe he doesn’t love you?”

Midorima has a way of withdrawing completely when he doesn’t want to talk about something or when things get too personal for him.

“I— _we_ —are not…” _loveable,_ Midorima trails off, but Takao knows what he’s trying to say for once.

It’s frustrating, but he doesn’t know what to say. _You’re wrong._ But how would that convince Midorima?

Takao’s own father didn’t want a family, and he’d checked out as soon as he could and never looked back. Takao’s own father hadn’t even been _there_ when he was there. He’d never come to parent-teacher meetings, never come to his basketball games, missed birthdays more often than not. His parents had married young (unplanned pregnancy and all that—Nobuko had never flat out said “he knocked me up so we married” but he’d been able to do _that_ math on his own, calculating his birthday from when they got married). Takao’s father sent a post card every now and then and occasionally 500 yen on birthdays, but it had been abundantly clear that the man most certainly wasn’t interested in actually being _a father._

So it was obvious to Takao that Kishitani Ryohei—who had braved cops, Special Diets, and accusations of serial killing to stand by Midorima—was a better father than some who were biologically related to their children.

He remembers the conversation between Kishitani and his mom—the one he had shamelessly listened in on the night Midorima had been arrested. It was obvious that _both_ of them had known what the Miracles had done, and that the fact didn’t change how they felt. It was so hard for him to even imagine that kind of unconditional love when his own father’s love had so many conditions.

In this situation, he doesn’t think he can say, “It’s OK, Shin-chan, they know you killed a bunch of people and still love you,” even if maybe that’s what Midorima needs to hear. It doesn’t seem like something Midorima should hear _now,_ when he has that withdrawn expression that conveys his own deep sense of self-loathing.

Thinking about that night, he remembers something else, and realizes maybe there _is_ something he can say after all.

“He wanted to name his son ‘Shintarou,’ if he’d ever had a boy.” Midorima snaps his head up and looks at Takao with a wary expression, like he isn’t sure he should believe him. “I heard him say it to my mom. He wanted to name his son ‘Shintarou,’ and that’s why he gave that name to you. You _are_ his son, Shin-chan. Don’t ever doubt that for a second.”

Midorima lowers his gaze and swallows. Takao _should_ give him this time to compose himself—that would be the _nice_ thing to do—except he feels like he really needs to drive his point home so he moves to cup Midorima’s face, placing his forehead against the Miracle’s (and startling him with the contact).

“Shin-chan, you are incredibly loved,” Takao murmurs, and slowly Midorima wraps his arms around Takao’s waist, and holds him, like he’s hanging on to a lifeline.

*

Ryohei was looking out the window when he sees his son bid farewell to his friend. He hadn’t meant to stare—he was idly thinking how pleased he was that the two were friends—when he sees Midorima reach out and touch Takao’s hand. Ryohei drops the plate he’s washing.

It’s not that it is a particularly overt gesture—Midorima’s hand brushes up against Takao’s for just a few seconds, lingering for the span of a breath, and then drops away. And for any other person it might have been easy to write off the gesture as a friendly farewell, or maybe even accidental contact.

Except Midorima _didn’t_ accidentally touch people, and he most certainly never initiated physical contact with anyone. Ever.

Ryohei shamelessly stares at this new development, now taking note of Midorima’s expression. He has never seen Midorima look so soft at anyone.

It occurs to Ryohei that they must be dating and his mind immediately runs through a series of thoughts:

  1. First, that he is exorbitantly pleased by this revelation, because Midorima is such a reserved boy who purposefully kept himself distant from people. The idea that he could now be in the position where he is _dating_ anyone is a clear demonstration of just how far he had come.
  2. He is momentarily regretful that the person Midorima was dating is Takao Kazunari. Not that Ryohei has anything against the boy, quite the opposite in fact, it is just that Takao was, for the longest time, Midorima’s first and only human friend. Takao is the _only_ person Midorima’s age that Midorima had bonded with at all. And while it wasn’t _surprising_ that Midorima would form a romantic attachment with his friend, given that information, it makes Ryohei a little nervous that all of Midorima’s bonds were with one person. It seemed a little too much like putting all his emotional eggs in one basket, and surely that is too much for any one human child to bear.
  3. He does think it is a good fit, though. It makes a lot of sense. Midorima Shintarou had always been a very serious boy, and he needs someone in his life who will balance him. Takao Kazunari is lighthearted but not frivolous. He laughs a lot, but he never laughs _at_ people, and that makes him just the sort of person Midorima needs in his life.
  4. And finally, his last thought is, _Oh crap, I am dating that boy’s mother._



Ryohei spends a few moments of quiet distress in his kitchen as he thinks through the implications of this new development.

Midorima comes back inside and eyes him, perplexed. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Ryohei squeaks. “Never better.”

 _Ah, well,_ he thinks. Midorima was clearly keeping his relationship a secret (embarrassed, no doubt, to talk about his feelings with his family. Midorima was always embarrassed to admit he felt anything) and Ryohei hadn’t told his family about _his_ relationship (for similar reasons—it seems like a very embarrassing topic to discuss with your children) and all around he figures as long as they both keep not discussing their respective relationships for as long as possible, they can prolong the inevitable embarrassing and awkward confrontation that they are both dating Takaos.

This seems like the best course of action.

*

“Masachin is making dinner,” Murasakibara announces out of nowhere. Himuro isn’t sure why this information is relevant, but he knows Murasakibara well enough to understand that the other boy wouldn’t be bringing this up without a reason, so he just smiles and waits.

“Her sister will be there,” Murasakibara adds. The taller boy picks at his shirt, not looking at Himuro. “Murochin should be there too.”

And _that_ was interesting. “I would be delighted, Atsushi,” Himuro says smoothly.

*

Murasakibara _never_ initiated anything; he didn’t invite Himuro to go anywhere or do anything, he just quietly acquiesced whenever Himuro wanted to do something and Himuro counted that as a win.

For Murasakibara to actually invite Himuro anywhere—that must mean this was _important._ And since he couldn’t see why Coach Araki making dinner would be of any major importance, that must mean Coach’s sister being there was the important part.

Himuro goes to dinner quietly intrigued at the prospect of meeting someone who was important to Murasakibara.

*

Araki Yumeko is not at all what Himuro would have expected as the little sister of his Coach, but, strangely, she is somehow exactly someone he’d expect to be a relation of Murasakibara’s.

Yumeko is shorter than her sister by a head, with rounded curves and a softness that doesn’t at all match the athleticism of her sister’s build. She has her hair tied back is a lazy, half-hazard way, and she’s munching on pocky. She eyes Himuro when he greets her, grunts a noncommittal response, and scampers to the couch as soon as she has the chance. Murasakibara follows her like a towering puppy and tugs on her sleeve for some of her pocky. Himuro overhears her say, “No, Atchin, these are mine. I brought some for you in my purse, though. You’ll have to get it because I’m not leaving this couch.”

He turns to Coach in a bewildered stupor. “Is she Atsushi’s _mother?_ ”

Araki just grunts. “He never told you about her?”

“Atsushi never tells me anything,” Himuro says, which isn’t quite true—Murasakibara probably tells him more than he does others; he’s just never been a very open or forthcoming person. Himuro accepts that about him.

“She named him. She’s an analyst on the SDF base, and the first person he ever bonded with, I guess. She’s the reason why I’m his guardian.”

“Why didn’t _she_ take him in?”

Araki just snorts. “Take a guess.”

Himuro looks back to where the two sit on the couch, munching on snacks, and he thinks he can figure out why Coach might not trust her sister to raise a child.

“They seem…a lot alike.”

“Yeah,” Araki agrees. “Weirdest thing to ever happen to me, finding out there was a child male version of my sister.”

It’s certainly _not_ the weirdest thing to happen to Himuro, but finding out there’s an adult female version of Murasakibara is certainly strange.

*

He’s never really had a longtime boyfriend, so meeting the parents was never an option before, and as far as he was concerned one of the perks of dating someone who was created in a lab was that Himuro had assumed he would never _have_ to be in the situation where he’d meet Murasakibara’s parents. Coach liked him, mostly, and he never felt the pressure to impress her.

Which is why this development is very distressing. It never occurred to Himuro that he would ever be in the position where he would have to impress his future in-laws, and he’s not sure how to go about doing that.

What’s worse, it’s becoming increasingly clear that Yumeko doesn’t like him. Every time he tries to talk to her she mutters a monosyllabic response and shifts away from him—sometimes even leaves the room entirely. He can’t tell if her reaction is based on homophobia or just instant dislike of him personally, and it’s causing him to despair.

“Coach, she _hates_ me.” He very deliberately does not _whine,_ because that is not the kind of person he is, but he comes close.

“Well, yeah,” Araki says, sounding surprised. “Don’t take it personally, she hates everyone.”

Himuro flounders a bit, since this isn’t what he expected her to say. It is somewhat comforting to hear, because at least now he knows it’s not anything he said or did, but still. “But I _want_ her to like me.”

Araki accepts this and her face softens as she takes pity on him. “Just treat her like you would Atsushi. You got _him_ to like you, so winning her over should be easy.”

Himuro can’t resist smiling and saying, “Oh, _Coach._ I don’t think I could use the same methods on her _at all._ It would be highly inappropriate with her being your sister, and Atsushi gets jealous.”

She whacks him over the head and mutters, “This is why Alexandra Garcia shouldn’t be allowed to raise children.”

*

All joking aside, he figures Coach gave him pretty good advice, so he approaches Yumeko with his emergency stash of snacks he generally saves for when Murasakibara is in a bad mood.

Before he can offer her the snacks, Murasakibara spots him and says, “Those are mine. Murochin’s snacks belong to me.”

Himuro falters slightly but regroups, “I just though Araki-san might enjoy—”

“Yumechin has her own snacks,” Murasakibara pouts.

“Atchin is greedy,” Yumeko says, not acknowledging Himuro. “But I don’t want them.” She gets up and exits the room.

Himuro sits down unhappily in the seat she vacated. “I don’t think she likes me.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Murasakibara drawls.

 _She does,_ Himuro wants to yell. She matters to _you_. Of course I want her to like me!

He’s not sure why Murasakibara even wanted them to meet if he didn’t think it mattered whether or not she liked him.

“And anyway, she will like you, eventually. I like Murochin, and Yumechin and I always like the same things.”

It takes Himuro a moment for him to realize what’s happening—that Murasakibara is comforting him _and_ admitting that he likes him. For Murasakibara, this is practically a confession of love shouted from the rooftops, and Himuro has to take a minute to compose himself after the flood of emotion and also resist throwing himself on top of Murasakibara and tearing off his clothes. Coach wouldn’t approve.

“I will be patient, then,” Himuro says, once he’s in control of himself again. “Does she like American snacks? I can bring her some next time.”

*

“He’s _pretty._ You didn’t tell me he was _pretty,_ ” Yumeko hisses at her sister.

“Eh?” Masako says. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything!” Yumeko throws her hands up in the air and flails.

“Is that why you’re being such a dick to the kid? Because he’s pretty?”

“Yes! I don’t know how to talk to pretty people!”

She feels incredibly betrayed by the fact that Murasakibara has found himself an incredibly pretty boyfriend. And he was one of Masako’s kids, so that meant he was pretty _and_ athletic. Yumeko didn’t know how to handle pretty, athletic people. She never had.

In fact, she’d spent all _her_ high school years avoiding being near such people. Not that she’d had to try particularly hard to avoid them—pretty, athletic people lived in a whole other world. They would never even know she existed, and that’s the way it _should_ be. And until this moment, she was _sure_ Murasakibara was on her side on this. Yes, he _was_ an athlete—and a good one, by all accounts, but Yumeko just always figured he probably was just as anti-social at school as _she_ had been.

She’s not quite sure what to do with the fact that this is clearly not the case.

“He’s just a kid, Yumeko. He wants you to like him, so be nice.”

Impossible. “I don’t trust him.”

Masako raises a brow. “Because he’s pretty?”

“Yes,” Yumeko insists. She’s _aware_ that she’s stereotyping but she doesn’t care. People that pretty clearly had bad intentions.

“Well, get over it,” her sister says, heartlessly. “He’s important to Atsushi, and what’s more, he loves Atsushi a lot, so it’s your responsibility as someone who _also_ cares about that kid to be nice to the people he loves.”

Yumeko scowls at this—it’s certainly not a responsibility she signed up for. Although she certainly would have been a lot more willing to talk to the guy if he wasn’t so perfect looking. She’s going to hold a grudge over that for a long time.

*

She tries talking about it with Murasakibara, when his pretty boyfriend is not in the room. She wants to make sure this _is_ something Murasakibara wants, and that he’s not just swept up by smooth-talking beautiful athletic people.

“Atchin, I can’t believe you’re dating someone so pretty,” she says, and then realizes that’s probably not her best opening line. But she’s committed now and carries on with, “How do you know he’s not using you?”

Even as she asks the question, she’s not entirely sure _what_ Himuro would be using Murasakibara _for,_ but it seems like one of those questions people ask in dramas a lot, so she stands by it.

She’s not sure what she expects Murasakibara to say to that question, but he surprises her when he just looks at her with a curious sort of serious intensity. He says, carefully, “Murochin is like you said. One of those people like Masachin. The people we need to love us.”

She quiets, and some of her inner agitation at meeting the boy calms. She’s pleased he even remembers their conversation, even if it hadn’t really been all that long ago. She also wonders if it could possibly be true that there are other people out there like Masako who will love the broken—if that young man she’s been avoiding all evening could possibly be one of them.

This kid in front of her is, against all possible logic, someone she cares about. So she wants to like anyone he likes. Even if they are pretty in that mistrustful sort of way.

Himuro walks back into the room, and looks momentarily taken aback at the sight of her. He recovers nicely and says, “Hello, Araki-san.”

She holds herself up and manages to meet his gaze. With great dignity she says, “If you have maiubo, I will eat it.”

To his credit, the boy looks like this is the best possible thing she could have said to him.

Even more to his credit, he actually has maiubo.

Yumeko decides she’ll give him a chance.

*

“I’m not trying to dissuade you of anything, Sachan, I’m just saying—you’re awfully young.” Michiru does her best to sound reasonable, even if she is fully aware that she’s lying through her teeth—she _is_ trying to dissuade the girl. “And I know you think you’re not, _believe_ me. When I was your age I thought I was ready for everything and _boy,_ let me tell you, I was doing _everything_ —”

“Mom!” Ryou yelps.

She ignores her son, “But, as you get older, you get a different perspective on your younger self, and you realize you should have really listened to your elders when you had the chance.”

Momoi doesn’t frown—she knows better, the face mask she’s wearing would crack if she did, and all three of them know to take spa days very seriously—but she certainly looks like she _would_ be frowning if she wasn’t currently lathered in green clay. “We’re not having sex yet, if that’s what you’re thinking, Michitan.”

“Momoi-san,” Ryou protests feebly.

“You see, I wouldn’t even be all the concerned if you _were_ just having sex,” Michiru says, although privately she will admit she’s glad that’s not the case.

“ _Mom,_ ” Ryou says again.

“Ryou, if you keep squawking at every little thing, you’re going to ruin your nails,” Michiru scolds.

Momoi is currently painting Ryou’s nails lime green because he likes the color. Michiru had made a point of breaking gender norms when she raised her son, and as a result of his mother’s heavy handed influence and his adopted sister’s insistence, Ryou good-naturedly went along with all their Girl’s Night activities—spa days, manicures, shopping. Michiru had even trained him to have a pretty good eye for what shoes went with what outfit.

He still persisted on being stubbornly squeamish at times, though.

“I just—I just think you should have a variety of dating experiences. I think you should date lots and lots of different guys—or girls! Your youth is a time to figure things out!—and _then,_ if you still want—you can settle down with whatever it is you have with Daiki.”

It had come to her attention recently that Momoi and Aomine’s relationship had shifted somewhat. They’d always been creepily co-dependent, but they’d always maintained boundaries as friends. Now, Momoi had stopped protesting when people assumed they were dating and Michiru had even heard her refer to Aomine as her boyfriend.

“I think you just don’t approve of Dai-chan.” Momoi still isn’t frowning, but the frown is definitely in her voice.

Michiru winces—risking her own face mask. “That’s not true.”

The protest sounds feeble, even to her. The truth is, she _does_ disapprove of Aomine—at least in terms of his relationship with Momoi.

She is supremely fond of the boy—just as she is of her niece and nephew. But he can be _mean_ sometimes, and he’s overtly masculine in a way that always puts her on edge.

Even if all that _wasn’t_ true, she would still disapprove because of _Teiko._ Whatever their bond was—it was forged by Teiko, and Michiru hates that. She feels somewhat like they can never be free if they’re still following Teiko’s design for them.

And that’s maybe why she’s trying so hard to dissuade Momoi away from whatever her relationship with Aomine is—it’s not casual. It’s a forever kind of thing, and she just doesn’t think teenagers should be faced with any kind of forever.

“Aomine-kun is a good person,” Ryou says loyally. “You don’t need to worry, Mom. He’s mellowed out a lot recently.”

“Again, that’s not my concern, exactly. Don’t you _want_ to see what it’s like to date other people, Sachan? Aren’t you curious? I bet there’s plenty of hot guys in Touou.”

“Dai-chan is the hottest,” Momoi says.

“It’s true,” Ryou agrees. “Everyone else is a seven, maybe eight at best.”

Michiru eyes her son. She can’t quite figure out if he’s actually gay, or if checking out guys is just something he’s grown accustomed to, like shopping and manicures, because he’s grown up around women.

“Don’t sell yourself short, kid,” Michiru says. “I know! You can date Ryou!”

“ _Mom!_ ”

“Well, I’d be open to the idea, but Dai-chan is strongly against it, and it would have to be both of us.”

“ _Momoi-san!”_

“Eh, never mind then.” She definitely doesn’t trust Aomine to date _both_ her children. “Although, if you do go that route, let me know, and I’ll update my sex talk accordingly.”

Ryou whimpers but he doesn’t move as Momoi applies the finishing touches to the final coat.

*

The Imayoshis and the Sakurais go camping every now and then—the Imayoshi men have a fondness for fishing, and Michiru thinks it’s good for the families to do things together.

“Fishing is the dumbest activity in the world,” Aomine announces.

“Don’t say that, Daiki,” Imayoshi Shigeru says. “It makes me feel like I’ve failed in some fundamental way as your guardian.”

“What is the point of living in a civilized society if you have to kill your food yourself?” Aomine says disgustedly. He flops down on the hammock. “Wake me when the food is dead and cooked and ready to be eaten.”

“I think I’ll enjoy cooking,” Momoi says sweetly.

“What?” Aomine yelps, almost falling out of the hammock.

“I’ll help,” Michiru teases. Her cooking is worse than Momoi’s, and everyone knows it.

“Oh god, why am I even here?” Aomine groans. “Ryou, do not let those two anywhere near our food.”

Michiru moves to set up camp, as her brother-in-law and nephew head towards the lake. Ryou and Momoi set up the campfire, and Sayuri moves to follow her.

*

“You don’t approve of Daiki.”

“I don’t approve of them dating,” Michiru corrects. She eyes her niece. “It’s forever, don’t you see? Those two.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Is there _anything_ from your teenage years you would have wanted to last forever? Looking back on it now?”

Sayuri looks down at her fingernails and says extremely casually, “I would have liked my mom to have lived longer.”

Michiru almost drops the tent, surprised by the wave of grief that courses through her, even after all these years, at the reminder of her sister’s death.

“That’s different,” she says gruffly.

“Is it? I don’t think it is, for those two. They’re family. And anyway, I think that’s what all the Miracles are looking for. Something that will last forever.”

Michiru thinks on that for a minute, because of course it’s not just Aomine and Momoi who have paired off—by all accounts it seems like all the Miracles are dating someone (which is, for lack of a better word, frankly miraculous, considering Murasakibara and Akashi both had immeasurable amounts of disdain towards humanity). Whether or not those relationships were _forever_ might be up to debate, but looking at it from that perspective, she could hardly blame them for trying to forge permanent bonds in this world.

“I just want what’s best for them,” Michiru says.

“I know,” Sayuri says, slapping her aunt on the back, “But sometimes you can be a really stodgy old lady.”

“Hey! You take that back, brat!”  
*

Sayuri did understand where her aunt was coming from, even if she did disagree with her conclusions. Michiru clearly thought that Aomine and Momoi’s relationship was just one more thing Teiko did to them. And maybe she has a point.

But, Sayuri thinks, sometimes bonds are forged even despite what was planned for them. Because she knows Aomine—just as much as she knows her own younger brother—and he’s the single most contrary fuck you could ever meet (she means that in the nicest, most loving way possible).

Aomine is not the kind of kid who would agree to anything someone chose for him. He and Momoi might have been designed as a pair, but that really should have had the opposite effect on him—he would have run all the way across the world to get away from such a design, if it wasn’t something he really wanted for himself.

Aomine and Momoi’s lives have been entwined _forever_ —and no matter what, they’re always going to be each other’s most important person. Even if they _did_ date other people, like Michiru undoubtedly wanted, that fact wouldn’t change.

*

“This fish is really good, Ryou. Good job,” Aomine says, pounding Ryou on the back, causing the other boy to cringe and almost choke on his fish.

“It’s the freshness of the fish,” Shigeru says. “You don’t get this kind of taste by shopping in the store. Of course, Ryou is a superb cook. A talent he cultivated in self-defense.”

“Hey!” Michiru says.

“It’s why you’re my first pick for a human boyfriend, if Dai-chan would ever agree to a threesome,” Momoi says.

Now it’s Aomine’s turn to choke on his fish. “Stop saying things like that!”

“ _Please_ stop saying that,” Ryou begs. “He might believe you.”

“You know, Sachan, I’m a little hurt _I_ didn’t make your top pick for future boyfriends,” Shouichi says, because her little brother cannot pass up the chance to fan any kind of fire.

“Gross,” is Aomine’s only contribution, “I’d rather die than be anywhere near your dick.”

“No, there’s too much testosterone in my life already,” Momoi says, pouting effectively, “My vote is Ryou-kun, or another girl.”

“Oh, well, if another _girl_ is an option—” Aomine says, brightening.

“A nice, cute, _flat-chested_ girl,” Momoi continues, “One with really cute short hair, and who knows a lot about basketball, and can’t cook either because I couldn’t stand it if she cooked better than me—”

“Why don’t you just _say_ Seirin’s coach?” Shouichi asks dryly.

“Ugh, no thank you, a flat-chested girl is no better than Ryou,” Aomine grumbles.

Sayuri somewhat feels like she should have beaten Aomine more for his sexist attitude towards women when he was younger, but since she always preferred large-breasted women herself, the effort would have been a tad hypocritical.

“Our threesome is sadly not meant to be,” Momoi says good-naturedly, “Since we have vastly different taste in partners.”

“Eh, threesomes are never as fun as you think they would be,” Michiru says. “There was this one time, in Mexico—”

“Oh God,” Ryou says, looking like he’s praying for death.

“Wait, I need to back up and explain about the pineapple,” Michiru continues.

“No, no, shut up, you _hag,_ no one wants to hear about your sex adventures,” Sayuri hisses.

“I kind of do,” Momoi pouts.

“I _definitely_ do,” Aomine says with a leer. He promptly gets smacked.

“I’m conflicted,” Shouichi says, “On the one hand, you’re my aunt. On the other hand, I kind of want to know how the pineapple features.”

“I’ve heard the story before,” Shigeru says mildly. “It’s very funny. The pineapple comes back in unexpected ways.”

“See, Sayuri? Not everyone is a prude like you,” Michiru crows.

“I hate you all. I want a new family.” Sayuri feels, somewhat, like this is Michiru’s revenge for calling her a stodgy old lady.

*

“You know, Seijuurou, the longer you go without introducing me to your boyfriend, the more I’m inclined to believe you’re not actually dating him. Admit it, this is just a delusion on your part, isn’t it?”

“This new tactic of yours is beneath you, Father,” Akashi says. “Did you honestly think such an obvious ploy would work?”

“Ploy? Who says anything about a ploy?” Masaomi says, sounding like the epitome of innocence. “I’ve just come to the conclusion that it makes sense that you weren’t actually able to successfully woo your intended partner. I mean, human interactions have always been your weakest flank.”

Only years of intense training keep Akashi from twitching. “I assure you, I have been very successful in my courtship.”

“Oh, I _grant_ you, I’m sure you won him over _once,_ but _keeping_ a boyfriend, that’s a whole other kettle of fish, isn’t it?” He claps Akashi sympathetically on his shoulder. “It’s alright if he’s already dumped you. I’m here for you, son. There will be plenty of other heartbreaks down the line, but the first is always the worst.”

Akashi counts to ten, remembers all over again how ineffective a method that is, and then shrugs of Masaomi’s hand, knowing full well that the action costs him a point in their battle. “Thank you for your concern, _dear_ Father, but my relationship with Furihata-kun is stronger than ever. Just last Saturday I dined with his parents. They are lovely people.”

Masaomi _does_ twitch, which means Akashi won his point back. He goes in for the kill, “It is alright, Father. I promise you will meet Furihata-kun at some point. Most likely after we are married, definitely before we adopt.”

“Oh, you are _hilarious,_ ” Masaomi says, as Akashi walks smugly away.

There are dozens of very real, very valid reasons why he hopes Akashi Masaomi and Furihata Kouki will never meet. But at the moment, the most important one is the fact that it is a delightful way to keep tormenting his father, and one of his easiest guaranteed victories. Ever since Masaomi figured out he would always win if he brought up stories of his “wild youth,” Akashi has needed something to even the score.

He’s going to start “accidentally” leaving wedding plans around the house, just to watch Masaomi explode.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos make me incredibly happy. Please feel free to find me over on tumblr (umisabaku.tumblr.com) if you ever have a prompt, or if you just want to see a neverending stream of anime reblogs =D  
> You guys are the best!


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